Paramount has released a new trailer for Mission: Impossible Rogue Nation and it does not disappoint.
Motorcycle chases? Yep. Funny one-liners from Simon Pegg? Of course. And it's capped off by Tom Cruise hanging of the side of an airplane as the classic theme track plays. Pure action bliss.
"This may be our last mission," Jeremy Renner's character says during the spot. "Let's make it count."
The trailer also uses Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love," and it all comes together to really have me excited for the movie. Rogue Nation hits theaters July 31.
Bungie has provided an update on its ongoing drive to raise money for those affected by the Nepal earthquake, announcing over $1,000,000 has been collected.
The studio's initiative involves selling physical t-shirts and in-game gear for .
Fantasies of the past, the present, and the future: May of 2015 gave us much fodder for our imaginations, but only one game can be Game of the Month...
You can get access to the Uncharted 4 multiplayer beta when you purchase Uncharted: The Nathan Drake Collection, Star Wars: Uprising has been revealed for mobile, and Battleborn gets a new trailer!
Imagine a Super FX chip version of on whatever passes for an iPhone in this bright, shiny future. You also get a variety of stims, which give you a short but sweet special effect, like making your footsteps entirely silent or throwing a grenade that immediately teleports you to its location, Nightcrawler-style. A bar at the bottom of the screen shows you your visibility level, dropping to completely empty if you’re invisible, which can happen even if some guards saw you duck into a shady corner just 5 seconds ago. You can knock out guards and toss their bodies into the nearest convenient tidy pile somewhere, but the checklist at the end of each stage frowns upon such violence and offers higher grades to those who can get around without ever resorting to this direct approach.
I flunked every single time.
Think for yourself, QUESTION DOORS.
The do-no-harm approach can be done, and there’s plenty of challenge for folks who enjoy pacifist runs. The issue is that there are so few alternatives that don’t involve waiting out guards on a leisurely midnight stroll through an industrial complex or taking a nightstick to the face. Cold-cocking a guard is just sweet, instant relief. Not that the guards are terribly smart to begin with--they’re pretty quick to dispense nightstick justice. Even though you’re equally quick to crumple like a paper towel after taking two or three hits, it’s just as easy to watch them fumble around inches in front of your face and slip out of a hairy situation when they come stalking.
This is all perfectly well and good for a cheap-shot app offering quick doses of mindless stealth action on the go. The starting missions are simple sneak-in-sneak-out stealth runs, but Neon Struct has greater ambitions for its world. However, the sparse world building creates some gaping, disappointing holes. The better the story gets, the less the game built around it satisfies its needs. The earliest and best example is Jillian’s jailbreak. She’s just discovered a conspiracy that actually does go all the way to the top. When her grossly misogynistic boss has her tucked away in a detention facility until someone decides it’s neutralizing time, her field handler, an Indian gentleman by the name of Vinod, manages to bust in and hack her door open. This is all fine, but the very quality of the story betrays what you expect when she’s out. Most of the cells around her are empty, save one delusional prisoner. There’s a workout room for guards and a two-way glass room for visitations; otherwise, Jillian’s terrifying Guantanamo is a sterile, blocky hotel crawling with baton-wielding drones and the same three or four recycled textures. There are no indicators to be found besides the dots, question mark, and exclamation points placed over alerted guards, which helps with immersion but makes traversing the labyrinthine corridors a pain. That area’s one of the most frustrating moments in the game for the same reason. The one button allowing you to exit the facility is in a security room that you’d never really identify as a security room except that one tiny, inconspicuous switch is located on a ledge in a room you might entirely overlook.
Aw, do I have to choose?
The sterility might make sense for a government facility, but it makes less sense when the game drops you into big, well-known cities and everything is faceless, abstract, and completely missing a personality (besides the game’s default personality for everything, of course). A sequence on the next level has Jillian attempting to sneak into a medical facility to surgically remove the tracking device in her arm. You walk up to a bed, hit X, a spurt of red stuff hits the screen, and the objective is complete. Again, that’s all well and good for an art project or a proof-of-concept, but it’s not so great when we’re asked to engage with much bigger ideas and action.
It’s a double-edged sword, though. Can we really fault a developer for trying to give a very simple game more depth than necessary? It’s a tough call. Neon Struct has the right spirit behind it. It tries to be a rebellious, anti-government tale of capitalism and intelligence communities getting into bed with each other to the detriment of all, and that struggle is far easier to believe than many of gaming’s recent attempts to outdo William Gibson. But with the game-making tools at our disposal, that story should be told using as much fire and verve as can be mustered. Instead, it’s told here with a technical manual’s austerity. The story here acts as little more than the cellophane frames old-schoolers had to paste over their TVs to create a new background for the tiny lights that darted across the screen. Both do their jobs sufficiently, but we no longer have to simply dream of more.
Metaphor serves not only as one of the most used concepts in just about every medium imaginable, but also as the basis for entire works of art. Whole paintings are often metaphors for the artist's feelings or background, and movies can link chains of symbolism together to represent some more abstract concepts. Games can go further by inviting the player into the metaphor itself through interactivity, conveying difficult real-world problems like illness and societal inequalities. The trick to creating an effective metaphor as a game is to be subtle enough with your themes so they don't overwhelm the playing experience itself while simultaneously ensuring that the game still communicates the themes clearly. Sym, a platformer inspired by social anxiety, fails on both counts, leaving us with a clumsy, confusing experience whose bright spots are muted by rough design and heavy-handed themes.
Boiling down what Sym is about is simple: You play as a person trying to escape the prying eyes of other people by escaping into a world where they can't follow you, one where you can be alone. This is reflected in your experiences by your ability to sink into the floor and emerge upside-down on the other side. Suddenly, what were once solid platforms become empty space to move through, and vice-versa. Occasionally, you run into switches that cause blocks to appear and disappear in patterns marked with arrows, and, of course, you have to avoid enemies and hazards. However, most of the game's identity lies in its dual nature, forcing you to think about how far you need to progress before you have to switch orientation. Mapping out the correct path to the end is the most engrossing part of the game.
The words and phrases that litter levels can be a bit much.
Sym's mechanics falter when they're put to the test, however. The floaty jumping mechanics don't match up well with the frequent pinpoint platforming you're required to do. It's pretty difficult to land on a patch of safe ground only as wide as you are with the amount of control the jump physics allow, and not in a good way. Compounding matters is your character's hitbox, which extends past your actual body ever so slightly. You'll die by drawing too near a saw blade without ever actually touching it. And then there are narrow shafts you have to fall into at just the right angle or else get stuck awkwardly along the edge. The levels themselves are interesting thanks to good use of the orientation switching mechanic, but that's the only bit that works as advertised. These issues are small, but they add up, sucking away the promising potential Sym initially displays.
But its biggest failing is in how it fails to convey anything meaningful about its inspiration from social anxiety. You can see the obvious starting point for the extended metaphor in the central mechanic. Sinking into the floor is synonymous with hiding from the world's prying eyes as they try to drag you out into the light and consume you. What developer Atrax Games is going for here is pretty clear because of the game's very literal interpretation of these platitudes. The first set of levels features giant eyeballs that stare at you without trying to hurt you. In these levels, only environmental hazards, like sawblades and pitfalls, can harm you. Later stages have actual enemies that will kill you, like carnivorous plants that spontaneously grow out of seeds you see on the ground or hungry beasts that pace back and forth looking for a meal. Even the people you meet later on prove to be foes, pulling you out of your hiding place in the ground as you dissolve in a fit of social paralysis. It's all very on-the-nose, but you can see a vague character progression as fears intensify and you careen towards either finding friends amidst your anxiety or hiding away forever.
Arrows sometimes serve as a loose guide, but also indicates where moving platforms appear.
Though the game practically screams its inspiration at you, it has nothing coherent to say about social anxiety. The levels feature the aforementioned allusions to a hazardous world you must hide from, but everything else is muddled. The levels themselves rarely tell any sort of story on their own. Instead, anguished phrases are used to fill in the gaps where the game's thematic design drops the ball. But these also confuse any thematic ties the game manages to establish by reading like a moody high school student's musings scrawled in the margins of a notebook. That in itself is a cool idea, and it goes with the pencil-inspired graphics. But they don't reveal anything or lead the themes anywhere except to depict anguish for anguish's sake. Until the game splits off briefly into two different sets of final levels, the messages convey the same depth of pain and panic throughout. In fact, they sometimes border on incoherent ramblings not dissimilar to the stereotypically exaggerated dialogue you'd hear from a schizophrenic person on an episode of Law and Order, which matches poorly with the meager thematic progression the levels suggest. It's confusing, distracting, and occasionally insulting to those who suffer from social anxiety.
The few themes that do come through loud and clear--hiding from social situations, the fear and consequences of being caught in one, and the eventual message that finding and sharing the connections and burdens between people is the beginning of the answer--all would make a fine foundation for a game like Sym if they were handled with more subtlety. Likewise, the erratic writing plastered everywhere contributes very little, actively obscuring any sense of progression the themes try to develop. Even when divorced from its themes, Sym manages to be mildly entertaining but just shy of a competent game thanks to the many small yet significant design flaws you have to work through. Most disappointing, though, is that Sym manages to successfully convey nothing enlightening, moving, informative, or even coherent about social anxiety. Hiding may be a central mechanic in Sym, but obscuring your meaning to this baffling degree is never the answer.
The game also offers an online mode, in which you can test your ped-crunching skills against actual humans, who are smarter and deadlier than any CPU opponent. Here you are privy to all game modes, save Classic Carma, with the only major change being that resetting your vehicle takes three seconds instead of happening instantly. I didn’t get as many hours into the online portion as I wanted, mainly because I rarely found a game with people to play against.
So, with poor performance, stiff controls, and relatively dull game modes, I suppose the only thing Carmageddon: Reincarnation has left to offer is its dazzling sense of humor. Perhaps I have simply grown up, but I no longer chuckle at splattering dumb pedestrians against the hood of a digital car, with heads and viscera flying in all directions. I remember playing the original Carmageddon in my youth, giggling at a flying severed arm or three as I tore down a street. It’s all the same in Reincarnation, and I can’t get over how tame it feels. It’s not just that other games do violence better; this is the game’s humor, and it just doesn’t cause a reaction. During your travels, you will also spot a phallic-shaped building in the distance or hear frightened people screaming on a runaway elevated train as it tears around a city. There are rare chuckles, and I am not completely humorless, so hearing my car squeezing out a mine to the tune of a gurgling fart as it pummels disco-dancing bovines did provide a short laugh. But there isn’t much beyond that. After playing for a few hours, the humor was all but spent, as was much of the game.
Carmageddon: Reincarnation has the same flavor as the Carmageddon of yore, but not much attempt has been made at a revolution. It’s the same as it always was, and that isn’t exactly a point in its favor. Mowing down hundreds of the same meandering pedestrians demonstrating the same lousy animations is no longer as fun. Some games today, such as anything from Saints Row, do a much better job at car combat, racing, and killing heaps of pedestrians. Instead, the only thing Reincarnation actually achieves is standing as a reminder of how far gaming has come. The vehicular manslaughter of thousands of listless fodder swiftly falls into tedium after only a handful of hours, long before reaching the end of the game’s surprisingly lengthy 16-chapter campaign. The rose-tinted glasses are off; I was glad to have experienced Carmageddon all those years ago, but that’s where it should have remained.
Fantasies of the past, the present, and the future: May of 2015 gave us much fodder for our imaginations, but only one game can be Game of the Month...
You can get access to the Uncharted 4 multiplayer beta when you purchase Uncharted: The Nathan Drake Collection, Star Wars: Uprising has been revealed for mobile, and Battleborn gets a new trailer!
Watch extended gameplay footage from Hatred featuring the Giant Bomb crew.
Watch extended gameplay footage from Hatred featuring the Giant Bomb crew.
This week on Reality Check, Lucy investigates how developers use middleware like SpeedTree and Umbra to create video games.
